A Secret Well Kept
by Dru Ennis
Summary: *** Slash (however, nothing more explicit than kissing/hugging) *** A late night dinner in a small cafe could mean the end of the partners' careers, and a valued friendship.


A Secret Well Kept  
by Dru Ennis**  
**(formerly two-parter, published under another pen-name. recently re-edited)

_Part 1_

The two sat together discreetly in a dark, back booth at the small café on the first floor of Venice Place. They felt safe there. The chef and proprietor, Gabrielle Laroche, always welcomed the pair to Chez Helene. Gabrielle had known them since she purchased the business, from retiring Helene Labeaux.

She was the lone caretaker of a secret well kept.

Hutch reached beneath the table and softly caressed his dark-haired partner's thigh. "Stay tonight," he whispered with a feral smile. "Tomorrow is Saturday and we can just lie around and do nothing."

"I don't know, Hutch." After a brief pause Starsky choked, "I'm scared."

"Of me?" the blond asked in an amused tone.

The two chuckled softly. Starsky shook his head. "What if someone figures out that I'm always here, day and night? We could lose our badges."

With a sigh, Hutch gently squeezed the warm leg under his hand. "You know, I really love being a cop. But I don't think I love anything in this world more than you. You're the only thing I'm afraid of losing."

The two glanced up when a shadow approached their booth. Gabrielle, a large woman in her 50s, wearing a chef's uniform and hat approached the table with the grace and warmth of any mother. In her hand she carried a small silver tray holding a large pastry.

Setting the tray between the two, she smiled lovingly, her English somewhat broken, "I bring especially for you, _mes amours_, Napoleon... _ma spécialité_. I bring to you … _avec mes compliments_. Then she gracefully leaned over and placed a kiss on the head of each of her favorite diners.

Hutch reached for the plump hand and placed a gentle kiss on it. "_Merci tellement, mon cher ami,_" giving a heartfelt thank you to his friend. Gabrielle retreated from the booth to give the pair their privacy.

"Your French is getting good," Starsky grinned.

"Yeah, me and Chevalier," Hutch smirked, picking up a forkful of the creamy dessert and guiding it into his partner's mouth.

"Mmmm," moaned Starsky relishing the taste, "too many of these and they're going to take our badges for another reason - being too fat."

"Look at it this way," laughed Hutch, gently wiping a drop of cream from his lover's lips, "it hasn't stopped Dobey yet."

After enjoying a bite for himself, Hutch lifted the fork to Starsky's mouth again, shoveling in another piece of the gooey pastry, again, leaving a wayward drop of custard on his partner's bottom lip. This time his finger wasn't good enough. He cupped Starsky's chin, pulling his face slightly upward and kissed the custard from his lover's lip. Pressing harder, the two mouths joined, Hutch's tongue seeking immediate entry, and Starsky allowing whatever he wanted. Hutch moaned softly as the kisses continued, "Mmm, everything tastes better in your mouth."

He heard a soft chuckle from the recipient of his love, "I could think of better things to have in my mouth right now," Starsky whispered.

Unaware they were of the large, black man standing at the front door of Chez Helene, having come there for a takeout of pastries - a special surprise treat for his wife. He'd heard so much about how good they were from one of his favorite detectives.

Turning quietly, he left without the surprise for his wife - stunned into silence.

_Part 2_

Harold Dobey had been tossing, turning, and grunting for the better part of the night. The possibility of sleep was nil. What he saw at that small, intimate café both shocked and surprised him and yet, in some ways, was not really that much of a surprise.

"Harold," moaned his wife Edith, as she sat up in bed and turned on the bedside lamp. "What is wrong? I haven't seen you this unsettled since Leo Moon escaped from prison. Come on, baby ... please tell me what it is. Maybe I can help."

The large man sat up in bed and leaned back against the headboard. He couldn't seem to look at her.

"Is it something I've done?" Edith asked in a shaky voice.

Dobey reached around and pulled his loving wife into a bear of an embrace, kissing her forehead. "Oh no, no, darling. You've done nothing wrong."

"Then talk to me!"

He continued to hold his wife of so many years as he quietly spoke. "Well, on the way home tonight, I stopped by that little café on the first floor of Ken Hutchinson's building. He's always telling me how great the French pastry is. I was going to surprise you."

"How sweet ..."

Dobey held up his hand. "Please Edith, this is very difficult."

The woman gently kissed his cheek, "I'm sorry, go on."

The large man swallowed tightly. "I walked into the place and I saw Starsky and Hutch."

"David and Ken?"

He nodded and continued. "Edith, they were sitting in a back booth - kissing."

The pair fell silent. After a few moments, Edith spoke gently to her obviously troubled husband. "Are you sure? Aww Harold, they probably knew you were there and saw an opportunity for a practical joke!"

Dobey shook his head. "They weren't joking, Edith. Hutchinson had Starsky pressed up against the wall of the booth. He was stroking his face. There was no joking about it. They ... they ... " Dobey wiped a big hand over his face and sighed.

"Harold?"

"He had his tongue in Starsky's mouth - and their eyes were closed. It was an opened-mouth kiss. Like they were… Starsky seemed to enjoy what Hutchinson was doing - very much."

The room again grew silent as the two sat pondering what Dobey had seen. Dobey quietly continued, "I knew they were close - very close. And I'd even seen them get closer after Starsky was shot last year. But I never dreamed ..." He sighed, hugging Edith even tighter.

"What are you going to do?"

Her husband shrugged. "Those two are my best! I trust them with the most important cases - hell, I've trusted them with the lives of this family and they've never let me down. I feel like they're my … "

"Sons?" The large man nodded at his wife's observation. She again placed a gentle kiss on her husband's cheek.

His gaze dropped to his lap. "Edith, you know how I grew up. I'm not terribly conservative, but for God's sake, my father was a minister. Everything I grew up to believe tells me that two men together is wrong! I remember how difficult it was dealing with the John Blaine incident situation, now this. It's one thing for me to know - it's a completely different matter if Internal Affairs ever finds out about it. They'll lose their badges."

"And you don't want to see them hurt..."

Dobey nodded his answer. "Not to mention that if IA found out that I knew, they could make life pretty miserable for me, too. Edith, what am I going to do?"

"You'll do what you always do." His brown eyes met hers. "You care about David and Ken - very much. I can see that. You don't want to see them hurt. I care about them, too."

After another few moments of silence, Edith laid her head on her husband's broad chest. "Tell you what," she continued, "This is Saturday, so I will dole the children out to my sister's for the night and make a nice big pot roast and some of that rich devil's food cake that David is so fond of, and you will ask them here to dinner this evening. You have to tell them you know - if for no other reason, to help protect them."

Edith snuggled closer to her husband and continued, "They love each other, Harold. They have for a long time - it's just changed its form."

The two held each other quietly, trying to get some sleep - hoping that some miraculous resolution might come in their dreams.

The bright Saturday sun shone through the window of Hutch's bedroom, warming the large bed occupied by two intertwined lumps. Starsky's dark blue eyes were first to open, as he turned over and laid his unruly curls on Hutch's chest - reaching down and placing a soft kiss on the smooth chest.

Long fingers gently carded through the curls, and Starsky glanced up to meet Hutch's smile. The blond whispered, "I love waking up like this." After a few seconds Starsky's answering smile dimmed somewhat. "What?" Hutch asked.

Starsky shrugged, "Nothing..."

"Don't give me that," Hutch said rather sternly as he sat up in bed, pulling Starsky into an adjusted embrace. "Something's on your mind … last night? Was something wrong with last night?"

"Of course not," Starsky answered. "Everything was beautiful. It was terrific. I never felt more loved in my life."

"What is it then, Starsk?"

Starsky's voice grew heavy, his throat tight. "I hate the sneaking around. I hate that we can never tell anyone. I hate what people will say or think about us."

Hutch reached down and took the face he loved more than any other in his hands, tilting it upward. He gently plied kisses on this beloved face. "Everyone doesn't have to know, you know? Our friends will understand and they'll love us anyway. Our families …"

"Oh my God," gasped Starsky, "Ma! She's never going to …"

"Give her some credit, Starsk. Your mother is a beautiful lady. Besides me, no one loves you more, unconditionally than she does."

Starsky chuckled lightly, "She's just always had dreams of a houseful of grandchildren."

"So we'll adopt …" cooed the blond. "I'll even let you raise the children Jewish … that should make her happy."

Starsky broke into an almost uncontrollable laugh. "Oh yeah, when I bring you home and tell her that you're the gorgeous blond I've been sleeping with - like the first thing she's going to ask is whether we can raise the children Jewish? Don't you think there will be a little more on her mind than that?"

The blond partner shrugged. "Okay … I'll convert, too."

The two fell into a fit of giggles - their embraces tightened as they held each other closely.

The giggles subsided with the ringing bedside phone. "Shhh … " Hutch admonished as he picked up the receiver.

"Hello? Oh, good morning, Captain."

Starsky rolled over clamping a hand over his mouth again, trying to stifle his giggles at the thought of their captain being on the other end of the line.

"Starsky? No, I don't know where he is … not answering huh? He must've gone out for an early run. He's getting much better about exercising these days."

Starsky's giggle became a little too loud, and trying to keep serious, Hutch picked up a pillow and tossed it at him, placing a finger over his lips to convey the need for silence, as he continued his conversation with their superior.

"Dinner? Tonight? Sure. I doubt that he has anything planned. I think that would be okay … I'll call him and let him know … That's very nice, Captain. Can we bring something?" Hutch continued to listen to the other side of the conversation as Starsky calmed himself. "Please thank Edith for us … 7:00 … sure … we'll be there!"

Re-placing the receiver on the phone, Hutch sat up. "The Dobeys want us to come to dinner tonight."

"What's up?"

Hutch tried with much difficulty to contain himself as he glanced downward, "You are."

Starsky blushed slightly as he nuzzled his head into the fair chest. "Can't help myself. No dummy, I meant 'what's up' with Dobey asking us to dinner? Last time he did that we got suspended for three days."

"I don't know," smiled Hutch warmly tightening his embrace and returning the cuddle. "Maybe it's just a 'make nice with the help dinner'. Probably Edith's idea."

"Probably."

Hutch glanced over the mound of curls toward the bedside clock. "We slept kind of late this morning. Dinner's not until 7:00" he said … reaching down to kiss the curled mess.

"It's a date!" Starsky gushed crawling impossibly tighter into the embrace.

When the partners arrived at the Dobey home later that evening, they were both surprised and disappointed that the children were away for the evening. "Too bad," moaned Starsky, "I had a terrific new magic trick for Rosie," he smiled handing a good bottle of wine to Edith as they made themselves comfortable in the living room.

Edith smiled taking the bottle, and planting a motherly kiss on each of the detectives. "Thank you, this wine will go wonderfully with the dinner. Harold, why don't you make Ken and David a drink and I'll go give dinner a look," she added, moving quickly toward the kitchen.

"Uh huh," Dobey growled slightly, his uneasiness with the evening palpable. "What'll it be?"

The two - themselves uneasy with Dobey's demeanor - settled onto the couch. "Uh... whatever you're having will be fine, Captain," said Hutch.

Starsky leaned toward the blond and whispered half-jokingly, "I think he's going to fire us." Hutch answered with an elbow to Starsky's side.

Dobey mixed the drinks and handed each of his men a double scotch neat - keeping one for him. Returning from the kitchen, Edith announced that dinner would be in another twenty minutes or so. The room then fell deadly silent - not even small-talk possible.

The large man sat quietly sipping his drink at a loss for what to say to his two best officers. There was an ache in his chest like he'd never felt before and he wasn't quite sure what it was. It felt like uncertainty, coupled with fear, coupled with disappointment, coupled with more fear, coupled with ignorance. Dobey ran a stirring finger through his drink, still silent - his thoughts overwhelming. There were no two officers who garnered his respect more; no two officers he trusted more with any assignment; and there was the unspoken affection for these two human beings whom he'd come to identify as the type of men he would like his son, Cal, to emulate.

_Well, maybe until last night_, he thought, his brow furrowing.

The four glanced up at the same moment and exchanged uneasy smiles. "Nice weather we've been having," Hutch lamely contributed.

"Beautiful! Absolutely beautiful!" Edith agreed nodding enthusiastically.

A few more silent seconds was all that Starsky could deal with. Sitting forward on the couch, he boldly began, "Look, something's wrong here."

"Starsk …"

He held up a gentle hand to take back the conversation from Hutch, and continued, "No, Hutch, I want to know. We've all been dancing on egg shells since we walked in the door. The tension in here is as thick as mud." Starsky directed his attention to their commanding officer. "Cap, what's going on? Have we done something wrong? We can't fix it if you don't tell us what's on your mind."

After another few silent seconds, Edith verbally nudged her husband. "Harold, sitting here in silence is not going to help anything. You need to talk with Ken and David. You need to tell them what's on your mind."

"Captain?" Hutch again, gently nudged.

After a contemplative pause, his round face directed the conversation to the partners. "I went to that little café beneath your apartment last night, Hutchinson. I was going to pick up some pastries for Edith."

The partners' expressions went blank, the color draining from their faces.

"I saw you and Starsky in the back booth. And I saw what you were doing."

Hutch's gaze dropped to the drink he held limply in his lap. Starsky raised his glass to his lips and numbly swallowed the double scotch. Setting his glass on the nearby coffee table, he seized Hutch's glass from his partner's trembling hands and downed that drink as well.

"David!" Edith admonished, "Slow down..." Both men eased back into the soft couch, unprepared and unable to speak. "How long have you been lovers?" Edith continued, much to everyone's surprise at her candor.

Hutch cleared his throat. "Ab-b... Ab-About a year," he softly answered Edith with his almost signature stutter. "We became aware of how we felt shortly after David was shot last year. N-near death makes things a lot clearer sometimes." Starsky sat in silence listening to his beloved tell their story.

"He was hurt so badly … w-well … you know! He needed me and I needed to be there for him. One thing led to another and finally, I think we both realized." Hutch was cut short by the low, throaty voice of his partner.

Edith bit her lip as she looked at the tears in the curly-haired man's eyes. "I love Hutch. I've loved him for years. After I was hurt, I think I realized how much I really did love him - and how much I needed him."

"How much we needed each other," Hutch gently corrected him, easing a loving hand onto Starsky's thigh.

Starsky reached down to grasp the hand on his leg, holding it tightly. "We began sleeping together out of convenience more than anything. I was such a mess when I got home not only physically, but … "

"He had nightmares every night for a long time." said Hutch.

"I needed him there. He held me while I cried and he made it all better," Starsky added. "Sparing you the gory details, one night – well, I guess you can figure out the rest."

Dobey uncomfortably shifted in his chair. Setting his drink on a nearby end table, he looked up at his detectives. "I don't know what to say. I'm having trouble understanding all of this. You've both had more women than most men have in a lifetime. I just don't understand how two men can enjoy …"

"It's not about sex, Captain." said Starsky resolutely. "It's about commitment, loyalty, love. What's so hard to understand?"

The room again became silent.

Dobey's brow furrowed and he shook his head. "You know what this means?"

Hutch nodded and stood, "Yeah."

Reaching down he grasped Starsky's hand in his own and lifted his partner to his feet. "I'm afraid we do." Turning his sky blue gaze to indigo eyes, he winked and gave a quick nod to his lover.

Edith stood, following them to the door. "David, Ken, please don't leave like this."

Starsky turned to the gentle woman, "It's okay Edith. We knew it could happen." He placed a gentle kiss on her cheek and then turned toward Dobey. "We'll be there Monday afternoon to clean out our desks. It's been a great ride, Cap. Thanks for everything."

Hutch turned as well to face their former superior officer. "There's no one we admire more than you, Captain. Please know that. Don't feel bad. We don't."

Edith watched helplessly as two of her favorite people graciously, bravely walked out of their home, their hands grasped in love and unity.

"Harold!" she boomed, closing the front door. "How could you let them leave like that?"

Dobey stood and walked toward their bedroom.

After putting away the untouched dinner, Edith joined her husband in bed. No one in the Dobey home slept that night. She watched her husband silently agonize in the dark over one of the most difficult junctures in his career. All she could do was hold him and be there. The only words spoken all night came when he whispered in the dark bedroom, "I don't understand, Edith. I wish I could. God knows I wish I could understand, but I don't."

"They love each other, Harold. It's that simple," came the soft response from the woman he'd loved for over 20 years. "It doesn't change who they are. They're David Starsky and Kenneth Hutchinson. They're the men you hired 10 years ago as rookie detectives. They're the men who saved our lives. They're the most decorated officers you've ever had in your division. They do their jobs and they do it well - certainly not for the pay - which we both know is ridiculous - but because they like people and want to serve this community."

"For God's sake Harold, are you forgetting that David nearly lost his life last year? And even though he's back on duty - look how much he _has_ lost to 'protect and serve.' Look at the sheer torture Ken has gone through watching every painful step back to semi-normalcy.

"Is this how you're going to repay their dedication? How much do they have to give up before it's okay for them to be just who they are?"

Edith angrily rolled over in bed and the Dobey home fell silent.

Hutch and Starsky huddled together that night holding off the terrifying fear of the life that lie ahead - a life doing something other than what had become a passion for them - serving the public as police officers.

Protecting and serving. It was all gone now.

Starsky was very still, his breathing deep and slow. Hutch held him spooned in his strong frame - his arms tightly, protectively around his brown-haired friend and lover. The way they'd slept now for over a year - Hutch protecting his most valued relationship - and Starsky letting him.

Neither man could sleep. Hutch gently rocked the figure in his arms, and placed a loving kiss on his shoulder.

A whisper awoke the room. "What are we going to do, Hutch?"

"We'll do just fine! Whatever we do, we'll still be together. Even if our new jobs - whatever that is - separate us, we'll have our life together and no one can take that from us."

Starsky turned in the blonds arms and claimed his mouth in soft kiss. Hutch responded with a smile and softly fingered the brown curls. "No one can ever take this from us. You're all I need." A deep, cleansing breath from his lover followed the two nestling for the night; a night wide awake with fear, but also love.

_Part 3_

On their way to the squad room Monday afternoon, the two dropped by R&amp;I and begged a couple of small file boxes from Minnie. "Just cleaning out a few things," was Starsky's more than reasonable excuse. The two entered the squad to find it bustling with activity - fellow detectives on the phone, others following leads with interviews. Starsky and Hutch were barely noticed as they sat at their respective desks and began to gather up their belongings - a collection of 10 years of "stuff."

A tiny blue stuffed dog, a piggy bank, coffee mugs, pictures of them with other friends at various department functions … normal office clutter. Their attention was drawn to the opening of the door behind Starsky - their longtime commanding officer, stepping into the room.

"Starsky, Hutchinson, in my office please," boomed the voice as it had a thousand times before. The two rose and entered the private office. Barely through the door, Starsky reached under his jacket and began to remove his weapon and badge, Hutch following his partner's lead.

"Do you two realize that you're six hours late?" The pair's movements stalled as they glanced at Dobey taking a seat behind his desk. "You know I'll have to dock you for being _this_ late. You _are_ on the taxpayer's clock." Mouth's standing open in confusion, Dobey motioned, "Sit down."

"Captain," Hutch began, "we told you we wouldn't be in until this afternoon … we're here to clean out our desks and turn in our weapons and badges."

Dobey leaned forward in his chair and cupped his large face into his hands, his gaze back and forth between the two.

"I want silence while I say what I have to say. Understood?" His direction was answered with barely visible nods.

Dobey leaned back in his chair, rubbing a beefy hand over his stomach, wincing at the obvious acidic discomfort.

"I've haven't slept well since your visit. Neither has my wife, and I assume you two probably didn't get much rest either. Right in the middle of what I thought was probably the worst night of my life, my wife, in all her infinite wisdom, said something that made some things clear for me. This has nothing to do with who you are as police officers. It has nothing to do with how you serve the public. This is a personal matter between the two of you."

Dobey took a deep breath. "I still don't understand. I may never understand how you two feel or why you do what you do. All I have to understand is that you are two of the best detectives I've ever worked with. You care about what you do. You do it with exceptional skill and thought. And, to let you go because of some ideological bullshit, some homophobic rhetoric that the department doesn't even have the balls to put in writing, and some irrational fears on my part - doesn't make sense to me."

The two exchanged glances at the introduction of this new, improved, and definitely _more explicit_ Captain Dobey.

"When John Blaine was killed, a lot went through my mind. I couldn't understand his lifestyle - why he chose to do some of the things he did. The one thing I found inarguable was that he was a hell of a cop; a hell of a man. And he was my friend. Nothing, not even his lifestyle, changed that. Look, I can't promise anything about anything if anyone else in the department finds out. The only thing I can promise is that I'll go to the wall for you guys, but you have to help me. Please gentlemen, discretion. No more playing suck-face in small out-of-the-way restaurants.

"You never know who's going to drop by." A faint smile finally cracked the large black face. "Now, gentlemen, you have work to do and six hours of time to make up. I suggest you hit it," Dobey finished and began to tend to several files on his desk.

The two stood dazed and started toward the door to the squad room. "Oh, by the way - we'll be expecting you for dinner tonight; lots of leftovers from the dinner that didn't happen."

"Yes sir," Hutch smiled nodding. He exited the office just ahead of Starsky.

"Oh, and Starsky …" Starsky turned to meet the still stern countenance of their commanding officer. "The children will be home tonight. Rosie is looking forward to that new magic trick."

Starsky nodded swallowing tightly. "I'm glad, Cap." Starsky turned into their office closing the door behind him.

The pair sat at their desks, laying aside the file boxes. Their eyes connected one final time before they began their work; a smiled shared as they thought about a secret well kept.

_Fin_


End file.
